Can We Talk?
by HopeCoppice
Summary: Vlad thinks that maybe, just maybe, Bertrand might fancy him. Some slashiness. Now updated with lots more slashiness! And Malik, so spoilers for series four.
1. Chapter 1

**So I feel bad about posting this as it is, but there we go. It might have more added to it later just to salvage it... Still, I hope you enjoy it.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

"Bertrand." The tutor looked up from the book he was skimming through.  
"Yeah?" He looked so eager to help that Vlad considered, for a brief moment, just not having this conversation now. But it had to be done; there were things that couldn't be left unspoken any longer.  
"Can we talk in private?" Ingrid made a noise that her brother suspected was supposed to indicate scandal, followed by what was definitely an impression of someone puckering up for a kiss. She really wasn't helping. The Chosen One sighed as he followed Bertrand down to the training room, the only place they could be sure of privacy, and closed the door.

"What do you want to talk about?" Bertrand had no idea, did he? Vlad scrutinised him for a moment, but his tutor's expression was as carefully blank as he'd expected to find it.  
"You. Me. I mean, you _and_ me. Us. Our relationship." He was just digging himself a hole here; he might as well just spit it out. "Betrand, don't be offended if I'm wrong, but... do you... _fancy _me?"

Bertrand blinked. "I wouldn't put it like that, exactly..." Vlad raised an eyebrow.  
"Yes or no, Bertrand?"  
"Yes." Bertrand looked a little surprised at his own answer, but Vlad could see a tiny glimmer of hope staring defiantly out through his tutor's eyes. He crushed it.

"I thought so. Look... it's... nice that you care. But I'm not interested, and I'd rather you stopped looking at me like that. Like I'm the only person in the world that matters. Because I'm not. And I'm sure there's someone out there who'll look at _you_ like that, but it's not me. Sorry."

His tutor's face creased into a frown for a moment, then smoothed back out, mouth downturned at the edges but otherwise blank and unreadable.  
"Of course, as you wish. Was that all?"  
Vlad stared at him for a moment. "...Yeah."  
"I'll see you later, then."


	2. Chapter 2

**I never really liked the way I left this, and since the new series I've suddenly realised how it ends. So here you go, chapter 2 of 3 of a one-shot... Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Still not mine.**

It was like a recurring nightmare.

"Bertrand? Can we talk?" Malik hesitated, glancing behind him at the SCRAP kids, who were already beginning to catcall. "In private?"  
This time, he led his student up to his own room, the training room having been converted into the blood bar. He had to get a grip on himself; there was no way Malik could have realised. There was no way this could be happening to him again. Still, as he closed the door behind them, something in his head made him react the same way he had on one of the most embarrassing days of his life.

"What do you want to talk about?"  
"You." Malik hesitated. "Me. I mean-"  
"Please don't. If this is some kind of joke, just don't bother, and if not... it's unnecessary-"  
"You're going to die if I don't tell you." That got his attention. "I've... my mother, she's the shapeshifter who's been posing as you, and I'm pretty sure she killed Ryan, and I haven't said anything because it's my _mum_, but now she's after you." Bertrand was silent for a moment, processing this.  
"And that changes things?" His student frowned, stepping closer.  
"Of course it does. I'm not going to just stand here and let you get hurt." For a moment, he looked as if he was going to say something else, but then he turned away. "I mean, it's not like I actually _like _you or anything. Just nobody else gives a bat's wing about us SCRAP kids, so depressing as it is, you're the best we've got."

Bertrand thought for a few more moments, while Malik paced the room, looking anxious about his reaction. That stood to reason, he supposed; he'd just confessed to treason.  
"Will you tell Vlad what you've told me?" Malik nodded. "Now?"  
"_Now_?" He hadn't been expecting that, it seemed. "Um... yeah, if it has to be now."  
"Your mother could be posing as either of us to get at Vlad right now. Come on."


	3. Chapter 3

**And the final bit. Hope you guys don't mind the abrupt shift in character focus. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, never mine.**

When the threat had passed and the shapeshifter was nothing more than a rock in the lake that apparently existed in the Dracula Blood Mirror – Bertrand had never heard of such a thing, but he couldn't exactly enter the mirror and find out – Vlad had given Malik a long, searching look before turning on his heel and marching off with barely a muttered threat.  
"No more trouble or I'll dust you myself."

Malik didn't look like he was going to cause any trouble; he simply stood, staring at the mirror, until Bertrand touched his elbow to get his attention.  
"Can we talk in private?" He nodded weakly, a thousand miles removed from the cocky street-fang Bertrand was used to bantering with in class, and the older vampire decided that despite the relative privacy of the mirror room, it would be a good idea to relocate. Malik's room was nearest, so he took the boy by the arm and led him there, unresisting.  
"What do you want to talk about?" It was a dull monotone, as if he was just following a script, and though Bertrand had meant to say something like _I'm sorry_ or _you'll be alright_ or even _I'm here for you_, he found himself gathering the boy carefully into a hug instead.

Malik stiffened, every muscle tensing as he caught up with the situation... and then he was slamming Bertrand backwards against a wall, pinning him there. Bertrand let him; he wasn't holding a stake, he didn't have any of Vlad's creepier powers, and he doubted the boy would win in a fight if it came down to it. Let him work his anger out, if that was what it took.  
"If I'm going to lose everything today, I might as well get this out there. I couldn't stand the thought of Mum killing you because I... I really fancy you, OK? And Ingrid's already told me you've got a thing for Vlad, but I can't _help_ it-"  
"I had a thing for Vlad a year ago, Malik. And then he made it clear he wasn't interested, and I got over it. I didn't think I would, but I did."

Malik let him go, stepping back, running his hands roughly through his hair.  
"So you're saying I'll get-"  
"And then this gorgeous, funny guy who didn't act like he was better than me and didn't let me get away with _anything_ got into a fight with some slayers." He stepped forward and carefully untangled Malik's hands from his own hair, holding them gently between them. "And the more I got to know him, the more I liked him. Must be the motorbike, everyone loves a biker." Malik frowned, confused.  
"Who?" But his gaze settled on Bertrand's hands, still firmly clutching his, and then snapped up to his face, as if he hardly dared to hope. "Me?"  
"You," Bertrand confirmed. "But you've had a hell of a day, you probably shouldn't be making deci-"

He never finished his sentence as Malik pinned him to the wall again and crushed their lips together, trying to press his body as close to Bertrand's as he could without actually propelling them through the wall.  
"This OK?" He managed at last, when he could bring himself to break the kiss.  
"Oh, yes." And Bertrand pulled him right back in.


End file.
